


Handmade Memories

by Gossamer_Wings



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Backstory, Dangerous amounts of cleaning (mentioned), Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Julian's Route, Nonbinary Character, Not Beta Read, Other, POV Third Person, Past Character Death, frankly lots of exposition, talk of those off-screen deaths without it being the point, tentative and theoretical knowledge of ceramics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 14:31:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18236171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gossamer_Wings/pseuds/Gossamer_Wings
Summary: After the debacle with The Devil, everyone quietly settles into their new lives.  Malory and Julian are still wildly in love, but slowed down their burning pace after the rush of their adventure together.Asra's wanderlust has kicked in again and he's left for some short journey. Julian moves into the shop in his absence to keep Malory company, and together they dig up history left in storage years before.----This is meant to be cute fluff between my apprentice and Julian, Mal's backstory for you guys, and practice for me.





	1. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the middle of sort of re-writing the entire story of The Arcana with my apprentice, for fun and cause why the heck not, I thought of this idea. I swear it started off with like a super cute mental image, that's definitely still in there, but somehow it got all angsty for a moment.  
> Actually, the middle chapter of exposition and slight angst could be skipped entirely if you wanted, cutting out ~1200 words, now that I think about it.  
> Thanks for reading!

“I’m beginning to think my kin were hoarders,” Malory wheezed as they crawled out of the small storage space in their flat, pushing a humble-looking chest along. This one was _heavy._

 _‘What could be in here, rocks?’_ they thought.

Most of what had been unpacked so far was clothing, though plenty of other miscellaneous things like toys were present as well.  Small ceramic figures, old magical tools and _older_ textile ones, sets of dishware that suggested dinner parties larger than those Asra and Malory had alone the past few years, and generational clothes piled around the small living space. The most interesting thing were the records found earlier.  Not just business ones of the magic shop below, but personal ones as well. Memories forgotten years ago, written by family members long lost… a few probably written by Malory themself.  Stories to be discovered again, and shared with a new family.

Julian was grinning over his piles of work, surrounded by dusty treasures.  When he arrived at Mal’s home, not with any particular goal in mind but to keep them company while Asra was gone on a trip, he was ecstatic to hear the idea of cleaning the entire place to learn what was hidden away. Julian and his sister didn’t have anything left from their childhood that wasn’t lost, or handed down to someone else by now.

Giddy with nostalgia, he held up a toddler’s dress in between him and Mal, imagining them in it and beaming playfully while they dusted themself off.

“Oh, what could possibly give you that idea?” he asked, not expecting an answer and pressing on. “Think this one was yours? You know you look _amazing_ in everything, but a dress for a change might be, hmm, _exceptional_.”

Malory grinned at his purr, but shook off the flirt with a shake of their head.  They wouldn’t allow him to derail the day.  There was still so much to do. While never as concerned with the past as Julian was, Malory still enjoyed the work involved in organizing and learning.

Not only that, but despite the long morning that so far had really just resulted in a disaster area of a living space, spending time together always kept the two lovers in high spirits.

Julian left his sorting of clothes to stretch and idly talked about how he had sorted things in the room. His long limbs couldn’t fit in the crawl space of course, and that meant he had time while it was being cleared out unceremoniously. Mal was sitting before the chest they pulled out, now open, with a confused look on their face.  They tipped their head to the side, then explored and pulled out the contents. An apron and tarp were easy to identify, but the rest…

It had to be tools for some sort of craft. Parcels tucked around what looked like a large, wooden spool held brushes of different sizes, plus other carefully carved wooden instruments… some cut at odd angles like a quill point or knives, one or two with a curve on one side and flat on the other, hard wire loops were shoved into the ends of a couple. Jars of lightly colored ‘ _…dust?’_ sat innocently on the bottom. A long coil of _just_ wire made Malory think of a tool they saw in the palace kitchens once. They held it and looked to the other half of the chest with a large sac sitting on top of…

Malory slumped with annoyance. Round slabs. It _was_ full of rocks.

“That chest is almost bigger than you, Darling, I’m astonished by you every day. What do we have here?” Julian asked, leaning over to gaze into the container. Mal leaned back into his legs and smiled up at him, feeling his energy shift with his face from _curious_ to _excited_. He recognized the contents.

“Oho!” He exclaimed, moving beside Mal to open the sac and peer into it with a bright grin. “This explains _everything_ about the earthenware and ceramic trinkets you have. Most people just have wood, but _this_!”

Mal leaned in, buoyed with the joy radiating off of their partner, to look at what he had unwrapped. They raised an eyebrow at the clod of dirt presented with a flourish. It was remarkably dry and uninspiring they thought, but Julian wasn’t deterred.

“Someone in your family was a potter!” he announced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My maternal great-grandmother worked with ceramics, and so did my spouse when we were in high school. I love the medium, but don't have a lot of practice myself... I ended up doing a lot of fun research to decide what should go into this. The "spool" is a throwing wheel that you kick to spin, super low-tech but effective. The slabs are to sit on top of it to as a working space for the clay. I have no idea how heavy it would be and if my little apprentice could push it, but lets say they used magic if they needed to.  
> To anyone who throws clay: The Tarp was for the mess. also magic.
> 
> I have a drawing of the layout of the shop and apartment above, somewhere. I promise the layout makes sense, it's all just tiny.
> 
> Malory's family member made practical things, like cups and kettles and boxes, as well as figurines that could be magic'd to be totems. Some were sold, some were lost or scrapped, many were kept.  
> Mal is also like, nonbinary like Asra. They CAN go by any pronoun, but grew up on "she". after dying and losing their memories, "they" made more sense. Usually in pants for comfort, but they did used to wear dresses a few times. Julian just hasnt seen it yet and is excited at the idea of it, cause cmon. we know him.


	2. Exploration

The matriarchs of Nevivon were as diverse as they were jovial. Over their years they had many roles within their community, not just taking care of their children.  Amálie was wizened long before Julian and Portia came to be in her town’s care, but she still worked with her hands every day until the end.

Through a long and probably exaggerated tale, Malory was informed that Amálie made at least half of the ceramics in Nevivon over the course of her life.  A few times she made fanciful figurines for him and the other children to paint and play with. While too old by the time Julian knew her to want to mind children, for the short while he could manage to stay calm he was allowed to watch her work.  She even shared a few stories with him that he would later reenact to his new family.

Julian also managed to pick up a few skills with clay. Even being so young, before he ever wanted to be the doctor he was later in life, he loved to work with his hands. He didn’t know what all the tools in the recovered chest were for, but he recognized the throwing wheel and glazes.

“There might even be a surviving statuette or two I made back home,” Julian finished, looking up at Malory with a dusty smile.

The two of them had managed to clear a space in the room and were breaking up the hard, dry clay as much as they could on the tarp. If it could be soaked for several days, there was hope of using it again. Malory was thrilled at the idea of learning a new skill, and Julian was excited to try it again for the first time in years. Both of them were pleased at the idea of a shared connection in their pasts. Most of all, Malory marveled at how he’d managed to get so much clay on his face.

“Don’t suppose there’s a kiln hidden back there that you hadn’t noticed yet, was there?” Julian asked over the lunchbreak.

“You’re welcome to check for yourself,” Malory replied with a tired, teasing tone. Spells had kept the storage pest-free, but they still had no plans of heading back in. The now-powdered clay was moved to a covered bucket near the sink and the tools put away, but everything else still littered the floor. And tables. And bed. They took a sip of water. “What’s a Kiln again?”

Mal felt a small wave of _panic_ come off of Julian and saw him give them a wide-eyed look. “Oh, er. Well it uh…” he trailed off with a thoughtful look. “…I actually have no idea what it is.”

He blushed and smiled as Malory laughed loudly at him from across the table.  Julian didn’t know _what_ it was but…

“It heats and hardens the work. I don’t think I was ever allowed near any.”

Malory hummed. “Well if it was an oven of sorts, it’s possible it was lost long ago.”

The better part of the afternoon and evening was spent sorting things together, and speculating who they could have belonged to.  Journals were set aside to go through later. No memories ever came back to Malory after they were resurrected, unlike Julian’s had after his own death and revival.  But with their innate abilities, they were able to still feel soft sentiment attached to each thing that passed through their hands.  Julian had become particularly alarmed when Mal started crying after picking up a nondescript mug, but all they thought was: ‘ _huh._ ’ And calmly put it back down.

Some of it was decided to be sold, others brought out to be used or gifted to family, and a few things to be put back in storage. Accessories were added to Malory’s wardrobe, and few shirts belonging to someone somehow large enough were given to Julian.  Charms with faint, barely-familiar, protective magic were re-powered and put out again. Drawings signed by unknown names were put on display.

After watching Julian organize children’s clothing with a wistful look on his face, Malory decided to keep those too.

The rest of the week was a domestic dream of running the shop and errands together between sharing meals and stories. Since having his name cleared, Julian was still becoming accustomed to being a free man before picking up work of his own again.  He relished being put to work for Mal. As for Mal, they enjoyed having him to themself for once. At least when the shop was closed to the public.

Malory learned they used to have an old aunt that raised them like a mother, and a young mother that only visited occasionally like an aunt.  The ceramic tools had been antiques passed down and used by Malory’s mother, then stored in the shop for an unmentioned reason.  Malory’s aunt had been very skilled in magic, and taught them growing up.  Their aunt ran the magic shop before she died of old age, their mom probably lived somewhere in what was now the flooded district of the city.  Through records of the shop as well as a few journal personal journal entries, Malory calculated they must have taken over running the shop right as their aunt died, when they were barely of age.

“I’m 28,” Malory greeted Julian with that afternoon.

“Hi 28,” Julian said with a boyish grin over his bag of groceries, “I’m Doct–   _ACK_!”

Malory cursed their aim and dashed around the shop’s display case to get closer, so they wouldn’t miss again.

Reading the private entries of their own journals about Asra, especially after he had moved in, was tough.  The two of them had been so close that year… closer than they were now.  Mal could feel the affection pouring off of the ink in their old words about him, leaving them wondering just how affectionate they were off the pages.  Malory understood of course why he had pulled away after they died and were brought back, but it was still heartbreaking. At some point all mentions of him cut off entirely, and they didn’t like that at all.

Around then, tucked into the pages, there was a note from Julian’s practice saying that Malory’s mother had just passed away in his care.

“I think remember them…” Julian said quietly, brow furrowed in concentration. “It was a very early case of the plague, they didn’t last long but they were determined to help other patients until the end. Told stories and did tricks to keep spirits up.”

He smiled fondly at Malory. “You mom, they must’ve given their personal information to my assistant, who wrote this note. He didn’t last long, couldn’t handle it. But you arrived on my door, probably right after you got this, and demanded to be taught medicine.”

Malory hummed thoughtfully and thumbed the pages of their journal while leaning against Julian. Bitter determination and sadness clung to the entries of those early days working for him. Later ones had a slightly-annoyed fondness when talking about ‘Doctor Jules’. He talked gently into the evening about stories the restrained entries alluded to.

The final page used was a simple good-bye note to whoever found it. Malory had diagnosed themself with the plague, and decided it best to commit themselves to the Lazaret rather than take up a cot needed by someone else more, or possibly inflict another.  Julian and Mal read it holding each other silently in bed. No emotions could be felt by Malory from the page, except for disbelief and heartbreak where teardrops had fallen and dried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mal's mom was WAY too loud and adventurous to have allowed themself not to be remembered by everyone they met. If not by their name then by "that wild, beautiful person I ran into".
> 
> I have... ALL of Malory's backstory figured out. I'll probably write a strictly sad one-shot of the time when the plague _just_ started soon, and another bitter-sweet one of them working with Julian. B)


	3. The Dirty Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its me, Im the april fool. I went and wrote this half-baked idea in an excited state before the final chapter of the arcana even released. if I had waited, my hands wouldnt have written what they had about Asra, instead making it fit more cleanly into the cannon story. such is life. I'll edit it later when I dont feel so mortified.

Neither of them were sure exactly how long it would take the dry clay to reconstitute in the water, or how much water to use, or the quality it would be in. After about a week of ignoring it, the two lovers had a lazy day to themselves to have a good look.

“Yeah that sure looks like mud,” Malory offered. They sat on the floor looking into the bucket next to Julian.

He laughed and stuck his fingers into the slurry. “Well it’s uh, definitely too wet still to use for anything really. But it’s not nearly as gritty as I thought it would be.”

Mal dipped their fingers in as well. It was surprisingly smooth and clean-feeling. If they focused, they could feel soft memories of hands they didn’t quite recognize anymore. They rubbed it between their fingers, looking thoughtfully at Julian’s profile as he kept talking.  The lid can be left off probably and in a few days the clay can be moved back to the sac, or a better one with fresh waterproofing, it should probably be stirred, one of them should look for someone with a kiln, oh but they should practice quite a bit before firing anything… Malory loved him so much.

So they reached out and wiped the wet clay across his cheekbone.

Julian gasped in surprise, and turned to face Mal’s wide, unabashed grin.

A wave of mischievous energy and a returned smirk was all the warning Malory had.

 

Asra sighed happily at the sight of the shop’s door when he landed on its street.  The latest trip he’d been on hadn’t exactly been as necessary as ones before… but he needed some time away to truly relax and recompose himself after the recent adventure.  Ghosts.  The plague. Old friends and old hurts. Magical realms and dangerous trips through them. Goats. It was all a bit much.

After a few days with Muriel at his home and a few more alone, Asra was more than refreshed and ready to see Malory again… and Julian. Between the two of them he had plenty of things to address, and he finally felt he was in the headspace to be able to do so. The quick amends and explanations they all made in the chaos of The Masquerade hadn’t nearly been enough, he knew that. He was just thankful they had let him take his time.

 _Home!_ Faust said from Asra’s scarf, sharing waves of excitement with him. _Friends!_

She was probably right that Julian was staying there as well. Malory never liked to be left alone, even if they could handle it. With the shop locked up Asra wondered where the two might be, thinking he’d have the place to himself for a while.

Wearily crossing the threshold, Asra’s heartrate spiked through the roof to the sound of a scream from upstairs.

Few other times had he ever moved so fast.

Hat and bag discarded by the door, Faust alarmed and coiling tighter around him, Asra raced across the shop and practically _flew_ up the stairwell. Panic seized his breath, the sounds of the world muted save for a pounding in his ears and distant shouts of _“You bastard!”_ and _“You asked for it!”_

Arriving at the landing, breath coming in sharp gasps, the scene of the apartment stopped him short.  No stranger had broken in, nothing was destroyed, and shrieks of horror sounded more like giggles now.

Julian hovered over Malory on the floor, pinning their legs down with his own and rubbing a handful of… _mud?…_ into their face beneath him.  Malory wiggled frantically, smearing a smaller amount against his chest and trying to back up while wheezing with laughter.

Asra sagged in relief on the doorway and watched in amused confusion.  Faust poked her head out. _Slippery boy!_

He could see now both of his friends were wrestling playfully, impressively covered in earth. As was the floor.  He wasn’t quite sure of the source yet.  So involved in their horseplay, Malory and Julian hadn’t even sensed Asra’s arrival.

With a desperate movement, Mal tried to push themself out from under Julian and tip their face away from his muddy hands, making upside-down eye-contact with Asra.

“Oh!” They said breathlessly, with a brilliant smile. “You’re home!!”

Asra smiled down at the pair, the attention fully on him now. Julian’s ears and cheeks started to turn pink, and he made a few noises like he was trying to find something to say to explain the situation.  He cut himself off and stood up sharply instead at the sight of Faust slithering across the room to him.

“I see you two found plenty of trouble to make while I was gone,” Asra teased through a muddy hug with Malory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Julian, distantly: "Faust, no, I'm covered in clay, Faust wAIT-"_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Malory's excited cause they're tired of being the only person in the house who can cook.
> 
> There's a big wooden tub kept in storage that they all will probably take turns using while catching up now. Magic can only do so much for your physical body imo.


End file.
